


A Favor

by aiIenzo



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: First Time, Fluff, Gavin is a little shit, M/M, Mutual Pining, amateur blowjob, bicurious Michael, guys look I wrote some sappy bullshit, seriously call my lawyer, writer is bad, writer is bad at positive feelings, writer is bad at romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 00:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14272410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aiIenzo/pseuds/aiIenzo
Summary: And all of that? It’d been fucking fine. So he found dudes attractive, that wasn’t uncommon. He worked alongside people of all orientations, but still, he never felt particularly like them, so open and upfront and sure about what they wanted. Up until that point, he hadn’t thought of a man sexually, but rather as wisps of interest, a passing and fleeting fancy.And then Gavin hit him like a brick fucking wall.(Or, alternatively, the one where Michael asks Gavin to help him figure out the true extent of his curiosity).





	A Favor

**Author's Note:**

> Look, there's only so much of Michael referring to himself as a "bi-curious twink" I can take before this shit writes itself. Inspired by the drunken Crash Let's Plays, Family Reunion bullshit, "Gavin Free is my boi," and the multitude of other teeth-rottingly sweet curiosities.

His hands were already sweating. Not unusual for him, but he was trying to go for ‘calm, collected, and casual,’ and his damp palms weren’t the only things belying how far he currently was from that mind set. He had cranked up the A/C to try and relax the heated tension that was coursing through his body, and his first beer of the night was churning uncomfortably in his stomach. He was a fucking  _ mess. _

_ Three years,  _ he cursed himself bitterly. Three years of considering, and you’d think he’d have worked up the fucking nerve by now. Dozens of fabricated arrangements were on loop inside his head for how this conversation could be brought up, how he’d express it, and the multitude of ways Gavin could respond. 

And he wasn’t prepared for any of them. 

Gavin arrived, twenty minutes later than the agreed upon hour, but time was passing weirdly for Michael anyway. Gavin was both characteristically late, and unwelcomingly early, and Michael startled in surprise when he heard the door open, despite how both of them were familiar enough in one another’s space to invite themselves in without a courteous arrival knock. 

“Lock the door behind you, yeah?” Michael called, steeling himself for the night ahead of him, wondering if this bleak and helpless idea would unnerve Gavin so badly he’d never walk through Michael’s door again. 

But, that’s what the beers were for. Involuntary ignorance, if it came to that. 

“Hey, boy,” Gavin greeted conversationally, appearing in Michael’s kitchen like the acclimation of everything Michael had been pushing to the side for the past six years. Gavin’s hair was swooped haphazardly in front, styled with the gel that he and Michael shared at the office, and he smiled at Michael like his day could finally be complete, like he could  _ rest _ . 

_ God  _ Michael hated him sometimes. Hated Gavin’s ability to manifest Michael’s underhanded desires and those embarrassing reactions in his gut. He wished he would’ve just been honest from the beginning, and avoided this whole potential coming out thing as though something about his current relationship had  _ changed  _ his orientation. 

_ Hi. I’m Michael Jones. Pretty sure I’m bisexual, and I just want to be upfront with you about that, because I don’t want to develop a close, personal relationship with you while you think I’m straight and make you believe that it was  _ you  _ who convinced me otherwise.  _

Because that was normal,  _ god _ . He took a heavy drink of Shiner. 

“What’s up. How was the podcast?”

“Ah, Burnie was having a laugh the whole time,” Gavin lamented cheerily, depositing his wallet into Michael’s bowl of keys. “Could barely get a word in without him calling me out on one thing or another.”

“So, pretty basic then.”

“Sod off. What’re we playing? Did you make food? I’m starving.”

Michael snorted. “I’m not your fucking wife, you know. But I did pick up Jimmy John’s. You’re welcome.”

He motioned with his bottle towards the back counter, where a labeled bag with Gavin’s preferred concoction of meat and cheese awaited. Gavin grinned happily and made his way towards it, clapping Michael on the back as he did so. “Cheers. So, Mario Kart?”

“Yup,” Michael agreed, finally feeling his stomach start to settle at how  _ normal  _ everything was, placated that Gavin didn’t harness some other-worldly ability to read Michael’s internal discomfort. “Also picked up the Jurassic Park trilogy on blu-ray for later, so hold on to your butts.”

Gavin sniggered lightly, and Michael smiled. Maybe this wouldn’t go so badly. Maybe, he was overthinking it.  He closed his eyes as Gavin’s cologne breezed over him, voilently shattering his confidence and bucking his pulse. 

Maybe he was out of his fucking  _ mind,  _ more like. 

The evening turned to night, and Michael counted Gavin’s beers like he’d count the cards in his hands. He slowed his own roll, keeping himself limited to just the right amount of tipsy, never crossing over the threshold to avoid any  _ true  _ blunt honesty. Meanwhile, Gavin was crowding bottles on his end table, the lithe body much less apt to handling alcohol than Michael’s own. It had always been the case, and Michael knew the exact moment Gavin slipped from a chill drunk to an excited, adventurous monster. 

And -- Michael hated himself a little bit for it, but he waited for that moment. Watched Gavin’s grin go from casual to slightly loony, watched him trip over the carpet with his stupid colorful converse. Watched him watch  _ him  _ with that same affectionate stare that had gotten him into this fucking mess in the first place. 

Because Michael’s not an idiot. The thoughts, the curiosities, they’d always been there. Middle school, high school, trade school, none of those environments had convinced him that his passing fantasy was anything less than a heavy spark of interest. And up until taking up residence with Rooster Teeth, it had been a backburner concern, a forgettable  _ huh  _ etched into the back of his skull during the odd occasion he’d found a man attractive -- a movie, a friend of a friend, even a goddamn cashier at the gas station. 

And all of that? It’d been fucking fine. So he found dudes attractive, that wasn’t uncommon. He worked alongside people of all orientations, but still, he never felt particularly  _ like  _ them, so open and upfront and  _ sure  _ about what they wanted. Up until that point, he hadn’t thought of a man sexually, but rather as wisps of interest, a passing and fleeting fancy. 

And then Gavin hit him like a brick fucking wall. 

To this day, he can’t pinpoint where the situation changed. He couldn’t tell you if working in close proximity to such an attractive piece of shit is what did him in, or if it was just the simple closeness with another man that set fire to the embers that were already there. Either way, within the first fucking  _ year,  _ his backhand interest had shot up to a fully-certified  _ want,  _ and where there had always been solid ground to greet him, he was now hovering in the undecided space of his own sexuality. 

He had to know. He had to know if this was just a staple curiosity, something to be sampled and turned away like a platter of foreign food, or if it was  _ him.  _

“So. I wanted to ask you something.”

_ Fuck _ , this was it. Forty-seven minutes into The Lost World and he was willingly about to test the limits of Gavin’s friendship. Fucking  _ Christ.  _

Gavin barely tore his eyes away from the television, borderline enraptured. “Oh, yeah?”

Michael swallowed, and it  _ hurt.  _ “Yeah. It’s like, a serious thing. And I kind of want to say that before I say anything else, you know. And it’s an uncomfortable subject, so if you pick up on what I’m asking you, and you don’t like it, just shut it down and we’ll forget it happened.”

Gavin’s gaze was steadily shifting from the screen to him, garnering interest, and Michael really wished he wouldn’t. It was far easier to talk to a profile that was only half invested than it was to meet Gavin’s wide, curious eyes. 

“You alright? What’s going on?”

Michael scratched the back of his head idly, trying to appear nonchalant while his insides did some form of acrobatic routine that threatened to upend all that liquid courage sloshing around inside him. “Yeah, man. I just… it’s a weird thing, you know? I mean, what’s the limit on weird shit I can say before you decide you probably don’t want to hang out anymore?”

Gavin gave him a  _ look.  _ That ‘you’re fucking joking’ look that always somehow enlightened him and infuriated him at the same time, but still managed to safeguard their comfort. It was the look of security, the promise that nothing Michael could say would send Gavin fleeing, and despite the five years of irrefutable proof that it was gospel, Michael still had his doubts.

“C’mon,” Gavin goaded, and Michael cherished the moment, this one final time Gavin would think he’d had Michael all figured out. “You’ve had to clean up my vomit off the bathroom floor before.  _ And  _ I told you what happened with that broad in Greece. Also I think I tried to fight you a few weeks ago, and that was  _ mean  _ of me.”

“Yeah,” Michael chuckled, “Yeah, you did. But this isn’t like that. This is like, a favor. Friend to a friend.”

“Anything you need, boy,” Gavin replied instantly, and there was a twinge of hurt in his voice, as though he were upset Michael was going through this whole preliminary talk like Gavin wouldn’t do what he could for him, hands down, each and every day.

Michael shifted uncomfortably. “See, you say that…” He paused, trying to avoid Gavin’s drunken, slightly wobbly staring, but it was a hard thing to deter, and Michael knew he was guilty of it himself once the lack of sobriety hit. He’d seen the videos. “Okay, look. I think I’m like… bicurious. Or something.”

Gavin looked unfazed, and snorted when Michael didn’t continue. “Yeah. Any other announcements you’d like to make? You like shit anime? You enjoy the occasional video game?”

Michael’s heart was  _ pounding,  _ because what the fuck? “Hey, fuck you man, I’m trying to be serious!”

“As am I!” Gavin retorted, taking another drink to hide his smile. “If you were hoping this would be a surprise, I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you. Like me, of  _ all  _ people, wouldn’t be able to spot it.”

_ That  _ ticked Michael’s interest. Gavin could easily play if off with the But I Know You That Well, Don’t I? bullshit he loved to pull, but something about it seemed accidental, a slightly inebriated admission, and Michael was ready to hold onto it for dear fucking life. 

“You ‘of all people’, the hell does that mean?”

And naturally, as it always went when placed on the spot, Gavin didn’t answer, and fell back on his classic out of redirection. 

“So what’s the favor then?”

Michael glared at him, because part of him  _ knew  _ the conversation was going to end up like this -- a full-fledged fuck-up and easy dismissal, but another part of him was hoping that Gavin would be as upended by this as Michael felt, at least for Michael’s pride to feel vindicated. But, he still hadn’t gotten to the best part, so screwing up this friendship was still a tangible possibility, despite how strongly Gavin loved to deflect. 

“First off, I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t think it was the best possible option.”

Whatever part of that caught Gavin’s attention, it caught  _ hard _ ; hook, line, and sinker _.  _ The drink in Gavin’s hand was halfway to his lips before he stopped, fingers caressing the outside of the glass as he paused to listen, and Michael took it as his sign to continue. 

“I thought about someone, you know, less familiar with me. Maybe like Jon or something. But I just don’t think I’d be comfortable with that. I don’t really know him.”

Michael left off the ‘like I know you’ that threatened to spill from him like an upended bag of marbles, and he’d  _ never  _ get all those fucking feelings back in if he spilled them now. Gavin finally seemed to be on the same plane of severity that Michael was trying to convey, and let out a small “Oh” of realization. 

“Yeah. ‘Oh’. You ready to leave yet?”

Gavin looked uncomfortable, but it was strained, like he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act towards Michael’s hinted declaration. The expression wasn’t borne out of disgust though, and that was a good fucking start, all things considered. 

“I’ll let you know if I want to leave. How’s that?” Gavin responded lightly, clearly trying to keep the unease from his posture, trying to keep the mood casual and as un-creeped-out as possible, and Michael figured it was the best answer he could hope for. 

“Alright, that’s fair. Um, anyway. I thought about meeting up with someone, like a tinder thing--”

“You can’t do that,” Gavin interrupted, sounding incredulous, his own discomfort easily overpowered by his concern for Michael’s welfare, and Michael’s pulse threatened to skyrocket at the blatant dismissal of his second best option. “Someone could recognize you, could even end up with a fan, and it would be bloody  _ every _ where.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Michael started, relieved that Gavin was still on his wavelength. “I mean, I’m not ashamed or anything, you know, but it’s something I want to kind of figure out in private.”

Gavin only hummed in agreement, backtracking until he once again looked lost in thought and slightly overwhelmed. Michael’s heart was doing awkward somersaults, half terrified at Gavin’s clear discomfort, half relieved he wasn’t calling to try and explain to Trevor why him and Gavin wouldn’t be able to do Play Pals anymore on account of Gavin dropping the friendship. 

“So…” Gavin cleared his throat, and Michael could see the cogs in his head working overtime to power through the alcoholic haze. “So you want you and I, to…”

Michael shifted hurriedly, eager to placate the situation before it got out of control. “Not like… not like that, what you’re thinking of. I just need to know whether this is actually something I’m interested in, something that I’d  _ enjoy  _ doing, you know, or if it’s just a soft curiosity, something that I’m only really into in theory.”

“Alright, I understand. I still don’t know if I’m… well, what do you propose?”

Michael shrugged, trying to maintain the aloof presence he was known for, but it was difficult when Gavin’s eyes were focused on the collar of his shirt, wound around the unexpected moment like a brittle tangle composed of his desire to help, and his own apprehensions. 

“I don’t know. Just, physical things. Nothing major. I hadn’t really...”

Michael hadn’t thought he’d get this far. Fuck, he hadn’t even thought he’d work up the nerve to  _ ask  _ the first fucking question, much less be this deep into the conversation without Gavin frantically requesting a Lyft back home. But god if Gavin wasn’t  _ processing  _ the request, his eyes shining humorously at Michael’s open-ended excuse.

Gavin chuckled weakly. “You hadn’t thought I’d still be listening?”

Michael shrugged, validated, but still teetering on embarrassment. “It’s not something I was exactly thrilled about asking, you know.”

Gavin finished his beer and tried to place the bottle cleanly next to the others, but his fingers slipped and he clanged them together loudly. “Ah, sod it.” He sighed, smiling lightly to himself in amusement. “So, how long have you been sitting on it, then?”

Michael blinked, his heart racing, and quickly decided that he was allowed to reflect just as seamlessly as Gavin did. He didn’t owe Gavin shit, not really, and he wasn’t about to blurt out how he’d been hovering in the exquisite misery of Gavin’s company for four fucking years. 

“Long enough,” he answered honestly, and Gavin, surprisingly, accepted the answer gracefully with an understanding nod. 

“Alright. Can I think it over?”

Michael could feel the exact moment the shock passed across every neuron in his body. His heart skipped annoyingly, giving away exactly how invested he had been in Gavin’s answer, and that little bubble of hope he’d been trying desperately to squish down to avoid disappointment was flaring to life inside of him. 

“Yeah, absolutely. Just, um.” He paused, trying to figure out where the fuck to go from here. “Let me know, either way.”

Gavin reached out and tapped his foot against Michael’s; a silly, sentimental sign of solidarity. “Hey. If it’s no, we’ll still be boys, right?”

Michael tapped back, huffing out a laugh at how  _ stupid  _ all of this was. “Obviously, idiot. Same goes if it’s a yes.”

“Cheers,” Gavin replied happily, settling back into the couch. “Mind if I stay the night? It’ll be two in the bloody morning by the time these movies are done.”

Michael grinned, because holy  _ shit  _ he’d done it, and nothing seemed to have changed. Even the ‘let me sit on it’ outcome had been chalked up on the ‘not gonna fucking happen don’t even plan for it’ side of the board, and to have even gotten this far was un-fucking-precedented. 

“Yup. I’ve got some of your clothes here still, we can carpool in the morning.”

  
  


///

 

Michael hadn’t expected an immediate response. Hell, he’d hardly expected a response at all, with the way Gavin had been utterly normal and unapologetic at work the following day. Despite their reassurances, he feared a change would happen; less physical contact, maybe, less whispering away from the microphone, less sharing of drinks, just  _ less.  _ But surprisingly, Gavin carried on, as though Michael’s admission had been just another part of his day, as routine as anything would ever get. 

So two days later, while Michael fucked around with the cords under his desk, he didn’t expect any of that to change. And when he grabbed his vibrating phone off the desk in an absent, reactionary gesture, he was legitimately surprised to see Gavin’s message waiting for him. 

_ So, about that conversation the other night. _

He shot up, and immediately banged his head on the desk above him in his haste to initiate potential damage control. 

“Ah,  _ fuck _ !”

Cursing, eyes watering, he threw himself into his office chair and opened the conversation to reply. His fingers hovered for a moment, figuring out how to sound as offhand as possible while his pulse threatened to bust the side of his neck open. 

_ Didn’t know if you remembered.  _

It was an innocent text, he thought, running a hand through his hair as he waited in the silence of the room. It set up his insecurities without blaring them across the barren landscape of his helpless optimism, something he was pretty fucking practiced at. His phone vibrated far too quickly in his hand, and it was hard not to picture Gavin on the other end, leg thrown over his couch as he waited for Michael to write. 

_ Course I do.  _

Michael’s heart was in his throat again, and he swallowed it down irritably. These annoying reactions had to stop if he was going to maintain the upper hand here, because Gavin was a homing beacon for his weaknesses, and the prick knew it. As was normal for him, he projected his aggravation back onto the subject. 

_ So what about it? _

He sent it, and spun around in his chair lightly, watching the PUBG animation play quietly across his monitor. He’d be running a match with Alfredo soon, and trust Gavin to pick the most inopportune times to have a serious discussion. 

His phone vibrated again, and he let out an involuntary exhale of breath at the words, unsure if he was reading them right. Unsure of  _ anything  _ anymore. Because there was no feasible reasoning, in the history of all good fortune and luck, that Gavin had just written what he did.

_ If you still need me, I’m okay with it.  _

Michael stared at the message, sure he was missing the punchline,  _ convinced  _ he had forgotten how to read correctly. There was no way that Gavin Free, master of backpedaling and a decidedly adamant fan of women, was agreeing to let Michael experiment with his sexuality and subjecting himself to the position of guinea pig. 

_ You sure? _

He typed back cautiously, because he was partially convinced Gavin was just being kind, fully intending to not go through with it, but unwilling to seem combative for Michael’s sake. He didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he also couldn’t be sure the horse wasn’t full of shit in the first place. The phone vibrated in his palm. His fingers felt sweaty.

_ Course I’m bloody sure. Kissed guys for less of a good reason, haven’t I? _

Michael snorted, because hey, Gavin wasn’t wrong. But something else lingered in the message, the sublimely honest admittance that Gavin had already considered the depth of this, and was trying to cover it with a casual, snarky remark. It was an attitude he would adopt when someone would breach a topic he was clearly not comfortable discussing -- or a reaction to someone trying to second guess his decision, to deter him away from a path he was intent on taking. 

Michael’s skin goosebumped involuntarily, and his muscles became tense with an unusual anticipation. Sure, he’d imagined wheeling his chair over to Gavin’s desk a few times and kissing him,  _ hard,  _ but that was a fantasy he’d saved for indecent times, torn between the satisfaction it gave him, and the guilt that lingered afterwards. But having Gavin as a willing party?  _ Well. _

He could feel the shifting of their relationship as he typed, but he could only output warnings and second-guess Gavin’s dedication for so long before his mind was side-tracked with the inklings of possibility. 

_ You’ll let me kiss you? _

It sounded stupid and childish, but they had to start somewhere, right? Michael resolutely ignored the stirring feeling in his gut, refusing to get himself hyped up for something that still seemed like a distant, intangible reality. He twirled in his chair a bit more, waiting for Gavin’s response, torn between disbelief and budding excitement. His phone buzzed, but it was only Alfredo, asking for a rain check. 

**Alfredo**

_ About to get laid. Tomorrow night instead? _

Michael laughed and replied that it was fine, sending his message just as Gavin’s came in, and Michael’s amusement caught in his throat at the simple, suggestive question. 

_ Sure, yeah. But why won’t you tell me what you really want to do, and stop pussyfooting around it.  _

Fucking  _ Gavin.  _ Michael ran a hand over his eyes, his heart stuck in his throat again, and he could feel his pulse thrumming through his body like someone had switch-flipped it into overdrive. Gavin was an absolute cocky asshole when he wanted something, but Michael couldn’t deny that it worked. It worked  _ so  _ well. 

_ I’d rather retain our friendship, dickhead.  _

It was an honest response, but he still groaned irritably as he sent it, hating his own precaution. As much as he wanted this, he wasn’t willing to push Gavin too far and force him to cut ties with the best friendship -- the best  _ relationship _ \-- Michael had ever had. He was completely okay with having a hot and heavy makeout session to judge his arousal, and he could base his conclusions off of that. That was all he really wanted, right? A safe place to explore and define. 

But Gavin, of course, loved to push boundaries. And Michael might as well be on a leash labelled  _ Gavin’s whims. _

_ Communication is important in a friendship, isn’t it? Stop being a little bitch and tell me what you want. It won’t change us boi, I promise. _

Michael rocked a little more harshly in his chair, considering. Gavin was getting snippy, which usually meant Michael was preventing him from doing something he wanted, but that was a ludicrous idea, wasn’t it? Gavin wasn’t the most alpha of males, sure, but Michael would’ve noticed by now if he’d brought a boy home one night instead of the girls he picked up at the bars when they went out. 

But fine. If Gavin wanted honesty, that’s what he’d get. Michael wasn’t a fucking prude, and that, at least, was common knowledge. 

_ I want to suck you off.  _

He sent the response, and ran a hand shakily through his hair, upended by the mild ludicrousy of what he’d just done. He read it back to himself and laughed weakly, imagining Gavin’s dumbfounded reaction, still completely caught up in how fucking  _ weird  _ all of this was. How weird it was that it wasn’t hitting  _ too  _ far from home.  

He was terrified, sure, but Gavin’s mood towards the situation had changed from curious and slightly nonplussed, to almost aggressively committed. And Michael  _ knew  _ Gavin, understood that he was great at making promises, then falling short on delivering, whereas Michael promised nothing, yet delivered fully when prompted. So yeah, he remained pretty fucking hesitant, but Gavin’s marked enthusiasm was hard to ignore. 

Which brought him back to his admission, only a few nights ago. It was something he  _ never  _ truly planned on sharing with anyone, much less such a prominent manifestation of his desires, and the fact that he had voiced them at all still felt like a lucid dream. Normally, he was able to keep that curiosity under control, but there were rare days that it would lead to uncomfortable situations. Days that he was coiled and tense from not getting any action, reducing him to a needy mess that had to fester in a room with too many other men that were suddenly as alluring as any girl, and Gavin was right there next to him, his spread legs in those tight jeans, begging Michael to crawl under the desk and make him come on camera. 

He adjusted his interested dick in his pants just as Gavin wrote back. 

_ You free today? _

Michael laughed breathlessly and nearly dropped the phone out of disbelief, because  _ fuck  _ this guy. Fucking Gavin and his deflections, his complete and utter devotion to Michael, his annoying fucking habits and the perfect, harmonious way he and Michael leveled one another out, covering for weaknesses and amplifying strengths. Fuck him in the most resolute way possible. 

And, if Michael was reading Gavin correctly (and he  _ always  _ was), his boy was about to come over just to let Michael wrap his mouth around his cock. 

Cue more breathless, disbelieving laughter. 

What the  _ fuck.  _

_ Yeah. Alfredo just bailed on PUBG to get laid. _

Michael was already standing up, his legs shaking slightly, to jump into the shower. By the time he was undressed, Gavin had already shot back a response, and Michael was again momentarily sent to another dimension where this all made sense. 

_ Ironic.  _

Michael stood in the middle of his bathroom, nude, waiting for his shower to heat up, and wondering if he was seriously about to give a blow job to his best friend. Where was the punchline? Where was Gavin’s backpedaling? Where was Michael’s shitty fucking luck?

_ You’re serious right now, aren’t you? Pick up some food when you come over, then. Mario Party is still running from the other day, too.” _

He heard his phone vibrate while he showered, but was too preoccupied with trying to keep his heart rate at reasonable levels. His nerves felt like someone had exposed them and dragged them across a blacktop, shredding them open until he was overly sensitive to the point of pain. He was already hard, but he ignored it, aptly refusing to give his dick any attention unless he could guarantee Gavin’s legitimacy. Until he could wrap his own head around the endless possibilities that the evening would offer. 

It could go badly. It could go well,  _ then  _ go badly. It could be bad, Michael could  _ hate  _ it, and they’d laugh it off until it was good again. Or, he could love it, and that good would keep on going. And what then?

He really hadn’t fucking thought this out.

He shut off the water and wrapped a towel around himself, picking up his phone as he left the bathroom. 

_ Cheers. I’ll be there in an hour.  _

  
  


///

  
  


Gavin arrived on time, which was the only thing new about his brazen appearance. His hair was still in a frazzled disarray, as though he’d slept with product still in and hadn’t bothered to run a brush through it before he left. His facial hair was in that halfway state, more than stubble, less than a beard, and Michael caught himself wondering how it’d feel against him as Gavin meandered through the door, smiling a cock-eyed grin that suggested far too many things. 

“You better have bought something good,” Michael warned, if only to keep his personality afloat while the rest of him slowly drowned in the unknown. “I’m so serious.”

Gavin held up his empty hands like a criminal appealing for a pity party. “Sorry, boy, driver that picked me up said he didn’t want food in his car, so… order, and I’ll buy?”

“Gee, how fucking generous,” Michael scoffed, turning a deaf ear on Gavin’s excuses and pulling a beer from the fridge. “You want one?”

Gavin tossed his wallet in the bowl, like always, and nodded. “Yeah, probably a good bet,” he muttered, and Michael didn’t press him for further comment. 

He couldn’t disagree to adding alcohol to the mix. Plausible deniability, the metaphorical lifesaver.

He grabbed another bottle from the fridge, holding it out for Gavin to take, and only then did he notice how…  _ wild  _ Gavin seemed. There was something in the atmosphere around him, something electric and reactive. His movements, while bathed in the comfort of a familiar setting, were jumpy and stiff, like he was forever hanging on the edge of his own personal precipice. 

His eyes were wide as Michael searched them out. 

“You okay, man?” He asked, shaky laughter forming in his throat. “Thought I was the one who should be nerv--”

Michael’s words were stolen from him as Gavin pressed into his space, one hand coming up to wrap shakily around the back of Michael’s neck, while the other removed the two bottles from his grasp and placed them on the counter. Their bodies were far too close for casual intimacy, and Gavin’s eyes were sweeping his face, dark green pools of galaxies hidden behind the unassuming spectacle of a single man. 

“If I don’t do this now, I’m going to lose my nerve,” Gavin explained softly, fingers trailing gently up Michael’s scalp. His face suddenly went awkward, rethinking his words. “Not like, because I don’t want to, but if we sit down and start playing, and, you know…”

Michael looked at him.  _ Really  _ looked at him. His dazed expression and cosmic other-worldliness was a mirror image to Michael’s insides, the blood pulsing through his veins, the sparks colliding in his skin where Gavin’s fingers were marking a lazy trail across his neck. 

There’s no fucking way he was this goddamn lucky. 

“I get it,” he agreed softly, and pressed his lips against Gavin’s. 

The kiss was cautious in all the ways they were decidedly  _ not,  _ testing the limitations in a friendship that hadn’t  _ set  _ any limitations, searching for boundaries neither one of them had even considered recognizing. Gavin angled his head just slightly, and it urged Michael closer, coaxing Gavin’s mouth open just enough for him to run his tongue across Gavin’s bottom lip. The reaction was instant, and Gavin’s lips parted in appreciative surprise, moving his hands until they gripped Michael’s arms hard enough to hurt. 

Michael figured the need for permission had all but been thrown out the fucking proverbial window, so he wasted no time in pulling Gavin closer, one hand sliding up between his shoulder blades to encourage contact, while the other moved down to finger Gavin’s hip, letting his thumb caress the sliver of skin he found above the denim waistband. Gavin shivered under his ministrations, tentatively swiping at Michael’s tongue with his own, his hands mapping out the movement of Michael’s muscles under his shirt. 

Minutes passed by as they explored, learning where the other liked being touched, what made them arch forward in a desperate attempt to  _ feel,  _ what low, disbelieving sounds they could leech from the other in a push-and-pull battle for dominance that was as soft as it was respectful. It was genuine in every way Michael had hoped it would be, had been too afraid to wish for, and Gavin’s unbridled enthusiasm was both surprising, and startling. But hell,  _ incredibly  _ fucking hot. 

He had half convinced himself that heavy petting would be the only order of the evening, before Gavin sneaked his thigh in between Michael’s legs, pushing their bodies together with a searing kiss that made Michael buck up on instinct. The hard line of Gavin’s cock he so innocently thrust up against was impossible to ignore, and the unmistakable sign of arousal was jarring enough to pull Michael away from Gavin’s mouth. 

“Holy  _ shit  _ \--” 

He met Gavin’s eyes, ran his vision across the rosy-tinged face, lips swollen and curved into a smirk at Michael’s eloquence. It was an expression he was used to seeing -- Gavin always so receptive to Michael’s presence, smiling at jokes no one else noticed, a fond appreciation that was nothing but sincere -- but it was laced with something new. Want. Need. Possessiveness.  _ Greed. _

“I believe you promised me something?” he asked, and Michael was nearly floored at how his voice had changed to something low and deep, curled around the edges of arousal. For a moment, the words meant nothing, just sounds that came from a mouth Michael wanted to sink back into, but when Gavin ran his fingers up through Michael’s hair, he suddenly remembered he was his own entity, capable of responding. 

“Yeah. Yeah, absolutely. Just, uh, go sit down, or something.”

He didn’t give a fuck how juvenile he sounded, and if the way Gavin smiled and moved to obey orders was any indication, he wasn’t alone on that front. The metallic clink of Gavin’s belt being undone was a record-scratch through his delirium, and he was quickly and painfully reminded that he didn’t know how to do  _ any  _ of this. He fucking hated being a disappointment, even if only to himself, and even the mere thought of screwing up the good thing he had going was enough to sour the church of his stomach. While Gavin settled on the couch, Michael twisted the caps off of the beers, downing half of one in a single go, hoping to inject himself with some goddamn confidence. 

He followed Gavin’s trail and handed him a bottle, noting the look of stark relief on the boys face. Gavin’s eyes were still wide, as if he were caught in the middle of a fever dream gone incredibly right, but Michael bit back the laughter, knowing he probably didn’t look any better. Gavin’s pants were already undone, belt straps hanging open along his hips like he’d been purposely set up as an inviting display. 

Michael downed the rest of his beer and dropped to his knees. 

He was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath above him, quickly covered by the slightly urgent swallow of alcohol. Michael refused to look up, cornered by his own nerves, afraid that he’d shatter this reality if he peered too closely at it. 

Hands shaking slightly, he ran his palms up across Gavin’s thighs, feeling the muscles tighten beneath his fingers as he worked his way up towards the open zipper. Slowly, he slipped his fingers inside the waistband of Gavin’s boxers, easing them down and over the considerable bulge, freeing Gavin’s cock to the exposed air between them. 

He’d seen it before, that wasn't new. Gavin showering drunkenly, wandering around Michael’s house afterwards, looking for a change of clothes. Walking in on Gavin and a girl from a house party getting busy on his bed, Gavin’s pride too self-centered to ask Michael’s permission first. Lots of opportunities to see Gavin unclothed had existed in their time together, but never had it been like this. Never had Gavin been hard for  _ him,  _ relaxed into the sofa and waiting for his best friend to suck him off with a half-gone beer in his hand and the world in his eyes. 

Michael reached out and took the warm flesh in his fingers, gripping gently around the foreskin, and Gavin jerked, a hiss of pleasure slipping past his lips that was so genuine Michael couldn’t help but draw his eyes up to the source. Once their eyes met, Gavin made a small sound of fragile disbelief, a quiet moan that had him slipping one hand through Michael’s hair in a decidedly  _ fond  _ gesture. 

“What?” Michael asked nervously, his voice low and quiet in the heavy atmosphere that engulfed them. 

But Gavin just shook his head, his tongue struggling to remember the words he needed as Michael jerked him off lazily. “Nothing. I just… you look good, like this.”

And Gavin looked like he meant it. His cheeks were flushed, and he was harder than rock in Michael’s hand, precome dripping steadily from the head. Michael ran his thumb through it , smearing it across the sensitive tip, using his own personal tactics in lue of practical knowledge. Gavin groaned again, and it was strange to hear him so reactive, like he hadn’t been laid in ages; like Michael was doing something for him that no one else had come close to achieving. 

And Michael, fuck, he was thriving on it. With his confidence boosted, he leaned forward to daringly lick the remaining slickness from his thumb, brushing the head of Gavin’s cock with his tongue as he did so. Gavin jolted again, hand tightening in Michael’s hair, chest heaving in the effort of restraining himself. 

“Michael, for Christ’s sake, get on with it!”

High on Gavin’s candid responses, still riding the throes of his incredulity, Michael smirked, moving to lick a complete stripe up the side of Gavin’s cock, tongue swirling around the head for a moment before he pulled off again. 

“And why should I do that? I want to get the full experience, Gavvy.”

Gavin closed his eyes, shuddering, and swallowed audibly. His next words came out soft, coercing Michael’s attention. “Michael, please… I’m not going to last. I want--” He broke off, looking earnestly at Michael, his expression half-mortified in his own embarrassing declaration, but the admittance sent heat straight to Michael’s gut, and his dick strained against his pants. 

He couldn’t ignore a request like that, not when Gavin was asking for him the same way a desperate man would recite a prayer. He wasn’t sure which one of them was really on their knees here, and it helped elevate his composure. He closed his mouth around Gavin’s cock before the man fell to pieces, determined to make it memorable. 

Gavin exhaled in relief, fingers retaining a tight grip on Michael’s head, a hand pushing against him gently to urge him down, to take in more. He was heavy on Michael’s tongue, but the pressure wasn’t unwelcome, and feeling Gavin twitch and respond to every inch he took down his throat was more than enough motivation to power through the strange novelty. 

Michael took as much as he could before pulling back, sliding his lips up and down Gavin’s cock slowly, relishing in the moment, the first exposure to something he’d been dreaming of for far too many years. Gavin sighed in contentment, his other hand trailing up Michael’s bicep. 

“So good, Michael boy,” he reassured him. “So good, love.”

Michael’s cock twitched again at the pet name, wound around that accent he had never denied was a potent aphrodisiac. A low whine escaped his throat as he moved to focus on the head, keeping his fist tight around Gavin as he continued to stoke the part his mouth couldn’t reach. The sound must have clued Gavin in on the situation growing in Michael’s own jeans, and he groaned softly. 

“Touch yourself,” he commanded tenderly. “This is about you, isn’t it? C’mon. I want to see you.”

Michael didn’t think the pool of arousal in his gut could get any more substantial, but Gavin’s words were hitting every checkmark he had on the long list of ‘what if’s?’. Ensuring he kept most of his attention on Gavin, he moved his free hand down to undo his own pants, hurriedly pulling out his dick to stroke away some of the neglected tenderness. 

He heard Gavin whispering a litany of adoration under his breath, his eyesight locked onto where Michael was running a hand down his own length, jutting out thick and solid from his jeans. The unprecedented  _ want  _ in Gavin’s expression tugged hard at the bowstrings of Michael’s heart, clenched his stomach into knots of hopefulness that he didn’t dare give a name to. 

He increased his pace, earning him a choked-off moan from Gavin and a tighter grip on the hand tangled in his hair. Lightning hot interest coursed through him, rendering him slightly off kilter from shock, like he’d aced a test he hadn’t bothered studying for. He was sure the only way he’d get off to this would have been to take the lead, play the dominating aura he kept coddled around him like a full body shield. But the more Gavin maneuvered his head for him, better lining him up to take that stiff length deeper down his throat, and the more he soaked up the verbal praise pouring out of a man that could sell books on compartmentalizing, the more he realized he was really, really good at taking direction. 

And he really, really loved doing it. 

“ _ Michael,”  _ Gavin gasped lightly, hips jerking as Michael took him deeper still, forcing his gag reflex to back the fuck off. “You’re so--”

Whatever he was, Michael never found out, because Gavin bit his lip in consideration, and readjusted his hold on Michael’s hair. His second hand moved up to cradle his face, aligning it just perfectly enough to thrust experimentally into Michael’s mouth. 

Michael’s moan caught them both by surprise, and Gavin’s hands were shaking with the same covetous curiosity that was spread like a wave of interest and realization through Michael’s body. 

“God, you are perfect, aren’t you?” Gavin asked softly, his voice teetering the edges of wonderment. “My little Michael.”

He thrust forward again, holding Michael’s head still, ensuring he was only there to  _ take  _ it, and Michael wanted to cry at how desperately it made him want to come. The hand on his dick moved sporadically, stopping every time Gavin’s cock slid down his throat, intent on fully enjoying the sensation, while jerking himself off quickly as Gavin pulled out, trying to catch the physical sensation up to the arousal that was building steadily inside of him. 

Gavin was quick to take notice, and his pupils darkened the moment he realized how close Michael must be to finishing. 

“You gonna come for me, love?” Gavin asked, his voice dark in a way that Michael knew was about to become his newest addiction. “Look at me when you do.”

A static rush of full body pleasure ripped through Michael at the words, so unlike the demure Gavin he was used to tormenting daily, and the alluring dichotomy went straight to his dick. All it took was the demand for compliance, coupled with Michael’s wandering thoughts at what  _ else  _ might be hiding behind Gavin’s veil of arousal, and he was obeying magnificently. His eyes flicked up to Gavin’s as the younger man gave a particularly deep thrust, and Michael was coming, pinprick tears at the corners of his eyes as he struggled to breath around Gavin’s length, his own hand working his dick as he streaked the floor in front of the couch with his release. 

Gavin’s eyes widened predatorily as Michael came, running across the expanse of his face as if he were trying to memorize the details. His lips were parting, mumbling words that Michael couldn’t make out over the sensory overload of a white-hot orgasm. But Gavin was moving quicker now, taking advantage of Michael’s lax muscles and pushing himself down Michael’s throat with renewed vigor. 

The fingers in his hair felt like the only anchors left in the world around him, and Michael kept the one free hand not covered in jizz clenched on Gavin’s thigh, loving the way it trembled beneath him. He was just coherent enough to hear Gavin’s worshipful sigh of “ _ perfect boy, _ ” before the cock in his throat was stilling, the thrusts tame and jerky as they resided, filling the inside of Michael’s mouth with something warm and not entirely unpleasant. 

He swallowed dutifully, annoyed at the bit that trailed out from between his numb lips like it had personally betrayed him. Once Gavin stopped trembling from his orgasm, Michael tenderly pulled away, cautious of Gavin’s oversensitivity, and without thinking twice, buried his face into Gavin’s thigh as he tried to normalize his breathing.

Gavin ran his fingers through Michael’s hair, humming in contentment, before the hand stilled. 

“Oh, shit, lemme--”

And he was up, stuffing himself back into his jeans as he moved away from the couch, leaving Michael to fall back against it with a groan of annoyance. Michael watched as Gavin started opening drawers in his kitchen, finally finding a washcloth that he brought back with a surprising amount of compassion in his expression. 

“Here, for the...” he mumbled, gesturing towards Michael’s chin, where Michael could feel the hard pull of drying semen on his skin. He simply raised his eyebrow in response, pulling the towel from Gavin’s grasp as he wiped off the remaining traces of Gavin’s spend and rezipped his pants. 

“Didn’t know you cared, Gavvers. I know for a fact you don’t treat your dates like this.”

“Yeah, well,” Gavin started, seating himself on the floor next to Michael’s form, legs stretched out in languid relaxation. “You’re Michael, aren’t you?”

Michael didn’t have a response to that, and Gavin seemed satisfied with the finalized end of the subject, so they lapsed into companionable silence, each working through what had just happened, forming their own conclusions. Michael’s heart rate had slowed, but it was still beating on overtime, captivated by the way Gavin had looked at him -- captivated by all the things Michael hadn’t  _ expected.  _

“Wasn’t as weird as I thought it’d be,” Gavin declared softly, as if they’d tried the new foreign restaurant out in town and were comparing notes afterwards.

Michael snorted in response, his lips still tingling from exertion. 

Gavin eyed him warily, as though  _ he  _ had been the one to place his insecurities out on the table, and the look shifted something in Michael’s clarity that felt a lot like surprise, but he remained silent, letting Gavin fumble through the conversation he so clearly wanted to have. 

“So, how was it then?”

Michael felt his stomach flip at the frankness of the question, and he wasn’t sure he was quite ready to admit to Gavin how utterly  _ gone  _ he was from the experience. And how badly he wanted a repeat. Maybe a place alteration. 

“Feel like I should be asking you that, you know?”

Gavin laughed lightly, unperturbed by Michael’s deflection. “Honestly? I think you’re  _ wasted  _ on playing video games for a living."

Michael threw his head back and shut his eyes in comedic humiliation. “ _ Jesus,  _ Gavin.” But, the admission tightened something in his resolve, just another typical scenario of Gavin encouraging Michael’s usually tamed ego, and he let only a moment or two pass before he bared the last remaining secret he still had. “I… it was good. It was  _ really  _ good. I’m glad I asked you. At least I know, now, you know?”

The thought that it was over as quickly as it began upset him more than he predicted it would, so he tried not to dwell on it. Still, he couldn’t help regretting the last kiss he didn’t take, the words he never said, Gavin’s movements and sounds that he hadn’t fully committed to memory. 

He kept his eyes closed, but he knew from the tingling sensation across his nerves that Gavin was staring at him, something affectionate and unbreakable, and Michael could feel himself cracking under the undeniable  _ fondness  _ washing over him. It was ages before Gavin spoke, and when he did, it was with a softness Michael had only been graced with a few times in their closely-woven friendship.  

“You’re braver than me, you know. I was never going to ask.”

Michael’s eyes snapped open as his heart lodged itself somewhere in his throat. Gavin was watching him with something akin to amusement, tainted with just the right amount of sparkling, validated regret. As though he’d set a pet free and it had come  _ home,  _ just like all those story books had promised him it would. 

Michael was decidedly  _ much  _ less impressed. 

“What the  _ fuck  _ does that mean?!”

Gavin just rolled his eyes. “Please. Like I haven’t been chasing after you for  _ ages. _ ”

When Michael just stared at him, an animal caught in that perfect headlight moment, Gavin scoffed good-naturedly, like turning their entire world up on itself was something commonplace enough that Michael was a fool for not expecting it. 

“I figured you were into blokes,” Gavin elaborated, as though he might be telling the boring, meticulous story of his daily schedule “But I thought, hell, if you wanted to ask me out, you would’ve done it. And when you brought up doing  _ this,”  _ he gestured to the space between them. “I clammed up. I couldn’t decide how to feel. I mean, thrilled, obviously, because I was going to get to have you--” (Michael’s heart dropped back down to his stomach, and he felt like he’d been sucker-punched) “--but also really bloody disappointed that I was going to just be practice for the guy that meant something.”

Michael’s face twisted in confusion. Hopeful, gut-wrenching confusion. “That’s not what you are,” he blurted out, inadvertently admitting what he’d been trying to keep bottled this whole time. Sure, he’d wanted to test the limits of his sexuality, but really…

He wanted Gavin. All the daydreams and carefully practiced scenarios had already convinced him of that, even if he had intently  _ not  _ focused on why Gavin was always the star of his after-hours fantasies. The same Gavin that was watching him with an unguarded expression, mirth prevalent on the face that had seen too many of Michael’s admissions, and loved him regardless.

“I figured that out on my own, thanks.” 

Michael opened his mouth to respond, then promptly shut it again when nothing came out. Gavin smiled at him. Really, truly smiled, and his eyes were back to holding galaxies within them. He leaned forward to end Michael’s suffering, placing a sweet, promising kiss against Michael’s mouth, a soft press of dedication that was so profound it had Michael chasing Gavin’s retreat as he pulled back. 

“What I’m saying,” Gavin elaborated, his hand curling into Michael’s hair to keep them close. “Is that you’re an idiot, I’m an idiot, and I want to buy you dinner.”

Michael swallowed thickly. There was no fucking way he was this goddamn lucky. Still wrapped around his disbelief, he searched desperately for the first excuse he could craft that would surely unwind the fabric of this perfect reality. 

“But you… you already owe me dinner.”

Gavin just laughed, pulling Michael’s pliant, incredulous body close to him. 

“Fine. Two dinners then. A week of dinners. Unless you have any more favors you’d like to ask?”

Gavin’s eyes peered at him hopefully, a small twinge of fear hidden deep within the expression, and Michael’s heart was on the verge of bursting in his chest. Gavin was here, asking him for more, with his heart on his sleeve and his eyes swimming with the fear of rejection. 

He knew that pain, and he knew it all too well. Gavin was right -- they were both absolute  _ idiots.  _

“Dunno,” he began, slipping easily back into his own skin as the playing ground was finally leveled. His hand curled around Gavin’s own, and his heart throbbed heavy in his chest as Gavin squeezed back. “Always wanted to try having a boyfriend.”

Gavin grinned cheekily, pretending to mull it over. “Damn, tall order. Think I can oblige, though. For you, anyway.”

“Good,” Michael responded, repressing the urge to hide the grin on his face as he sat up and moved towards the kitchen for another beer. “Now order dinner. I worked up an appetite only your expensive ass Korean place can satisfy. Spare no expense.”

Gavin smiled, more to himself than anything else, and pulled out his phone. “Sure thing, love.”   
  


**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a quick PWP of Michael giving Gavin a blowjob on the couch with NO GODDAMN FEELINGS INVOLVED, just to take a breather from other projects, and it turned into nearly 9,000 words of unnecessary build-up and a stupid, fluffy ending. This fic is probably my cry for help, honestly.


End file.
